


Midnight Rendezvous-A Slender Blog

by IllusionEvenstar



Category: Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Blood and Gore, Explicit Language, Horror, Other, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 16,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionEvenstar/pseuds/IllusionEvenstar
Summary: George decided to start a blog to cope with their depression. As they continued to write, things began to spiral downhill...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to do a Slender blog for this, but after that, I decided to scrap it and turn it into a fanfic instead. It seemed more suitable that way. 
> 
> P/S: All the stories here will be written in first person perspective, and some entries will be long and some will be short, like a real blog entry, so hopefully that clears out some things

**INTRO**

Depression is a bitch.  
  
And apparently my friend Janphen told me that writing on a blog like some sort of diary might help.  
  
Not that I want to. But I'm doing this just to make him happy.  
  
So...what am I supposed to write?  
  
About myself? Maybe.  
  
Alright, here's the facts:

  1. I'm female, though people tend to think I'm male, but that's fine. Gender consciousness was never really my thing.
  2. The name's George. Yes, that IS my actual name. Not short for Georgina or Georgiana or whatever. Just George. Father wanted a boy, came out a girl, Mother ended up almost died of blood loss after birth and had to remove her entire womanhood, and thus no more sibs for me. Guess that's why Pops left.
  3. Not at a legal age to smoke or drink, but who gives a fuck, right? You only live once.
  4. Go to a crappy middle-class school with a bunch of doodads for friends and only have one true friend, which is Janphen. He's all I need.
  5. Aside from movies and arcades, I stay in my room most of the time, maybe have a casual sex or two with Janphen, but that's about it.
  6. People think I'm emo or whatever coz of the way I dress, but honestly it's more of me being a recluse.
  7. I used to love life, but life don't love me back, so I decided to hate it



  
There, that's about the gist of who I am. I guess venting out is not so bad after all. Gotta thank Janphen for this.  
  
This may mean a trip to the drug store...


	2. Chapter 2

**DEAR BLOG DIARY - DAY 1**

Well, can't believe I'm back, and actually playing along with this.  
  
What more can I say about myself? Hmm...  
  
Well, from what I heard from conversations between Momma and her family friends, I was pretty much born in a good old fashioned home birth. Pops almost missed the birth, but then again in the old days, men weren't allowed to be in the same room with the women during birth anyways, which pretty much made it redundant to show up anyhow.  
  
Must've been a pretty crappy birth coz from the looks of it, the midwife who delivered me wasn't too experienced. She made Momma punch me out (no literal pun intended) too hard that it somehow severed some of the arteries in her womb, thus the near-death experience with blood loss. Momma had to be rushed to the hospital in the dead of night to be saved, and I was pretty much the one that pulled through the most.  
  
Pops left when I was one month old. Never really knew the reason why. He just left a note saying that he won't be home for dinner tonight, and also left behind the birth certificate that he had finally gotten down to register my name in.  
  
And he never came home since.  
  
_George Midnight Anderson_ , that was the name he registered me in, and it stuck ever since.  
  
Momma went on to say that during the first few years of his absence, she could've sworn she saw Pops standing out in the window, staring into my room and at me in the bed. She said he even had that tell-tale tilt of the head especially when he wanted to see something clearly, but every time she opened the window or ran outside the house to check and see if he was there, he wasn't. And when she asked around if he had ever showed up or seen him where he always peeked in, no one saw a thing.  
  
And once I reached 5, the "visitations" just stopped altogether.  
  
I don't bloody remember if I ever saw anyone standing outside my window peeking through like some sort of pedophile perv, but then again, I was prolly too young to remember.  
  
Momma blames me sometimes when she is mad or drunk, saying that it's because I was born a girl that Pops left. That I was born a girl that I drove Pops away, and my namesake was for him to punish her for giving him a girl instead of a boy.  
  
Well, geez, bitch, it's not like I WANT to be a girl. If you want a boy so much, why don't you just kick me out of the house and fucking adopt already? Fucking bitch.  
  
I guess that's all I have to vent for now. I promised Janphen we'd go check out some R-rated movies.  
  
Later.


	3. Chapter 3

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 2**

  
Janphen didn't come to pick me up to walk with me to school today, so I guess I'm not going to school either.  
  
He's probably the only reason why I would put up going to school.  
  
Seriously, what is exactly even the point of going to school? I mean, you only learn half of what's out there in the real world, and 90% of the time, the things you learn in school doesn't even apply shit in the real world. So why bother?  
  
Momma said if I keep this up, I'll end up working for some good-for-nothing department store as a cashier or a waitress at some dragster cafe earning peanuts.  
  
Well, EXCUSE ME for not having high expectations like you, Momma. What I wanna do with my life is none of your beeswax anyways. Didn't you hate me for being a girl in the first place? Why are you so damn concerned about my welfare anyway? Since when do you give a shit?  
  
Though I should've said this to her face. I'd love to see her looking like I just told her I was pregnant or something.  
  
The last time I lashed out at her, we didn't speak for a week. I was highly dependent on Janphen during that time, coz during the cold shoulder period, she cut off everything, even food and pocket money, from me. I swore I think I lost a pound or two during that week, coz Janphen isn't the richest guy in the world, and I don't fucking accept charity from his weird-like-hell (he agrees with me on that) parents.  
  
Some Momma she is.  
  
I bet she's wondering whether "Pops" would be out there at the window, looking through to try and get a glimpse of the family he left behind.  
  
Though I'd rather he just rot and die somewhere. I don't give a shit.  
  
Speaking of food, I better get all those leftover scraps out for Bushy and let him in the house to eat before the White Witch gets him.  
  
I'll talk about Bushy and White Witch later when I'm done feeding him.  
  
Be back in a few.  
  
\--:--  
  
OK, I'm back. Now where was I?  
  
Oh, right.  
  
Bushy and the White Witch.  
  
Well, Bushy is more of a stray pet of mine actually. He comes and goes as he pleases, but most of the time it'll be at night, where he would come to beg for leftover scraps. I would always keep a plastic bag nearby to dump in any food that I want to give him, maybe a few other things that I don't like to eat myself, during the day and have them ready by nighttime after our dinner, the last meal of the day.  
  
Sometimes we let him in during the rainy seasons, and he bunks in for the whole winter season, which we let him sleep in either the laundry room or the cellar, but other than that, he's a free spirit.  
  
And then there's the White Witch.  
  
He's the cat next door who has a habit of scavenging our trash at night, making a big fucking mess. We've complained it almost a gajillion times to the neighbours to get rid of it, but they deny ever owning the White Witch even though we caught them letting him in their house a few times.  
  
They call him Persia, if I'm not mistaken, but I rather call him the White Witch.  
  
Coz he's a bitch.  
  
A bitch who's always bullying Bushy.  
  
He sees Bushy as a threat to his territory and is always trying to bite or pick a fight with Bushy to scare him away. Fucking little prat thinks he owns the place when we never invited him in in the first place.  
  
God, I wish he'd just keel over and die, that White Witch. Just get run over by a truck or something and put him out of his misery.  
  
Anything to leave poor Bushy alone.  
  
.......I have a soft spot for cats. Shut up.


	4. Chapter 4

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 3**

  
Janphen still hasn't showed up to pick me up to school today, so here goes another day without school.  
  
Momma just yelled at me for not going to school again. I told her to fuck off.  
  
I told her if she loved school so much, she should just go herself and take over my place.  
  
She just said "Shit" and left me at that.  
  
Good riddance. Why is she always on my case is beyond me. Well, actually she's always on my case, but these few days it was more than usual.  
  
If it weren't for the fact that I'm still a minor and can't really hold my own until I actually get a job to survive, I would've moved out of my home and hit the road already.  
  
Dammit, she may be my Momma and all, but dammit, I hate her.  
  
And God knows she hates me too. I just know it in my gut instincts ever since the first time I heard her blaming me for being who I am and blaming me for Pops' disappearance.  
  
I think maybe tonight I'll go visit Janphen to see why didn't he show up today and yesterday for school. Not that I want to go back to school or anything, but I have to if I wanna get Momma off my case.  
  
I know what you're thinking. Why can't I just go by my own? Why must I be with Janphen?  
  
Well, it's because only with Janphen around will I be able to function properly in school. He is the only person who will keep me sane in school. Without him, I'd be a wreck. I'd probably be suspended before I even set foot into the building.  
  
Trust me, I tried.  
  
I tried going to school alone without Janphen for a change when he was down with the flu.  
  
It didn't end well.  
  
Even Momma was terrified of me for a while and didn't want to show her face in public for a whole month after what I did, which made her lash out at me more on how it was my fault Pops left when she went on her binge again.  
  
You don't wanna know what I did in school when Janphen wasn't around.  
  
Trust me. It's not pretty.


	5. Chapter 5

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 4**   
  


Sorry for the missed day. Technically it should be considered Day 5, but since I was at Janphen's and this really freaky shit happened, I had to collect myself to get my head together before I could write this down.  
  
Besides, who's counting, right?  
  
Anywho, that night after my blog entry, I made my way to Janphen's place to check him out and see if he's OK. Didn't go with the best of my clothes, but then again, Jan's folks, despite their grimaces, never really comment much about it.  
  
They better not be. If they know what's good for them.  
  
I asked for Jan, and they said he had been down with something they couldn't really explain, and had been cooped in his room since he came home from Home Ecs. That's when I remember I did notice something a little off when I was his partner in that class, but he kept saying it's just a stomach flu or something.  
  
I went to his room and let myself in, and there he was lying in bed, his back facing me. I sat down and shook him gently to get his attention.  
  
 **Me: Yo, bro. U alright?**  
  
He didn't reply me.  
  
 **Me: Yo, bro. C'mon, it's me, George. Ur gal pal. Wakey-wakey.  
  
Jan: Such is the life of a monotonous man, don't you think?  
  
Me: Whut? What the hell are ya talking about?   
  
Jan: When was the last time we went to the beach?  
  
Me: What does that gotta do with it? You're high on meds or something? Your rents say you got some downtime health going on. You're not having cancer or anything, right?  
  
Jan:** (he still didn't bother to face me) **Do you remember the last time someone in school asked you about your dad?  
  
Me: Well...yeah, I remember. Totally would've showed him a thing if you hadn't told me to leave it be  
  
Jan: Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing  
  
Me: What?  
  
Jan: Telling you to leave it be. Maybe I should just let you loose, just like the last time I was sick and you had to go to school alone and you totally busted that...  
  
Me: Hey, what are you implying there? Are you saying you didn't want to come pick me to walk me for school on purpose?  
  
Jan: Maybe...Maybe I am...I dunno...Maybe I'm just sick of all this...  
  
Me: Oh, just fucking say it, Jan. You don't wanna be my friend anymore, do you?  
  
Jan: I never said that  
  
Me: But you're implying it  
  
Jan: Maybe...  
  
Me: Maybe what?? The fuck are you...  
  
Jan:** (this is where he sat up abruptly and looked at me with his cold dead fish-like eyes, black rings under them like he hadn't been asleep for quite a while) **Do you know where your dad is?  
  
Me: What the...How the hell would I know...** (I was taken aback at this, it really getting fucking creepy, but he grabbed me by the arms)  
  
 **Jan: Do you KNOW where your dad is? Do you know WHO your dad is? Do you even KNOW WHAT he is? Do you??? DO YOU???!!!  
  
Me: Get the fuck away from me, man!!**  
  
I immediately shoved him against the wall and made my way out of the room. I didn't even bother to explain what happened to the rents. I just stormed out of the house and ran until I couldn't run anymore all the way back home, ran into my room and slammed the door like nobody's business.  
  
Janphen is never like this. He's always been the calm, collected and level-headed person between us. This is the first time I've seen him freak out like this. He never freaks out. Ever.  
  
What the fuck is wrong with him?


	6. Chapter 6

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 5**

  
Today something else freaky happened.  
  
I was staying home as usual, contemplating whether I should just give going to school alone another shot when there was loud banging at the front door.  
  
I didn't bother answering it, coz I know Momma would do it, since she's usually the early bird for work, but when there was suddenly yelling involved, I knew something was up.  
  
No one yells at Momma but me. That was the rule in this house.  
  
My rule anyway, but still.  
  
Anywho I went down to investigate, and I saw that it was Mrs. Crumps, the next door neighbour who "owns" the White Witch. The moment she saw me showing up, her voice seemed to have gotten an octave higher as she pointed that stupid nail-polished finger at me.  
  
 **Mrs. Crumps: You! I know it's you! You did it, didn't you?! ADMIT IT!!!  
  
Me: I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, bitch! And get that fucking finger of yours off my face before I hack it off with a chainsaw!  
  
Momma: Language, George!  
  
Me: She started it!  
  
Mrs. Crumps:** (I'll just call her 'Bitch' for now) **If you're not going to admit your handiwork, you better go check it out yourself!**  
  
Oh, I checked alright. I was not about to admit to something I KNOW I didn't do. Momma followed behind me to see what the hell the Bitch was talking about. She led me to her backyard where so-called prized apple trees (which looked more leafy than fruits, if you ask me) and pointed at one of them.  
  
It was really some freaky shit.  
  
The White Witch was fucking hanging by the neck on that tree.  
  
Dead as a doornail.  
  
With his guts sticking out.  
  
Yes, you heard me. Guts sticking out.  
  
Like it was fucking Saw VI or some shit. Like someone has gotten medieval on that bloody cat.  
  
As much as I liked the White Witch to become roadkill, this was really fucked-up.  
  
 **Bitch: See?? You see that?! Look what you did to poor Persia!!  
  
Me: Me?! ME?! How the fuck did you come to that "brilliant" deduction, asswipe?!  
  
Momma: George, langu...  
  
Me: No, Momma! I will NOT watch my tongue! You fucking call this MY handiwork?! You think I'm THAT sick?! I never even touch that fucking cat!  
  
Bitch: I know it's you! I KNOW IT'S YOU!! ADMIT IT, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF...  
  
Momma: Hey, hey, if my daughter said she didn't do it, she didn't do it? How can you be sure it's her and not someone else?  
  
Bitch: I KNOW it's your...whatever your fucking runt's gender is...it's ITS fault! I KNOW it is!! You and IT had never liked my Persia, always complaining and accusing that he raids your trash and make a mess, when Persia would never...  
  
Me: I thought you said you don't own him, now you're saying you are?  
  
Bitch: Th...Tha...That's... That's not the point of discussion here...  
  
Momma: Actually it IS the point. Why would you care so much that this cat was killed if it wasn't yours in the first place? And "Persia"? Sounds like you are admitted what you've been denying all along.  
  
Bitch: THAT'S NOT THE POINT!! IT'S NOT!!! The POINT is YOU KILLED MY CAT!! I'm not going to argue with you right now! I'm calling the cops on you! And don't you fucking leave town!**  
  
Leave town? Who does she think she is? The sheriff?  
  
Anyway, she did call the cops and animal control on us, and the blues came to investigate, checking for any foul play after clearing the White Witch's body, and despite the Bitch's loud protests and insistence to the point of jumping up and down and banging and kicking and screaming like a fucking 5-year-old throwing a tantrum, they found nothing to say that we did anything to the White Witch.  
  
Of course we didn't. How sick do they think we are? If you ask me, THEY'RE the sick ones to think that WE did it.  
  
Momma had asked me if I really didn't do it and I snapped "You're sick" at her.  
  
I just got back from feeding Bushy, and even then, I saw that Bitch peeking out of the window, to see if she could "catch us in the act". She's been staring out the window at us ever since the blues gave us the clean bill, giving me the stink-eye every time she caught me seeing her.  
  
I bet she's doing it right now.  
  
Fuck her.  
  
Bitch.


	7. Chapter 7

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 6**

  
Nothing special today happened.  
  
Other than the fact that Jan ignored my calls and text and had not gotten online when I tried to contact him through MSN.  
  
And when I came to his home, his folks didn't seem to be home to answer the door and he didn't seem to want to answer either.  
  
I know he's at home. He's got his own car and it's parked in the partially opened garage.  
  
But he didn't answer the door and didn't seem to have left his room either.  
  
I wanted to climb up and peek in but that would make me look like a fucking criminal trying to break and enter.  
  
I did see lights from his computer flicker for a while, but that's it. He showed no signs of movement whatsoever.  
  
I didn't go to school either. In fact, while typing this, I'm trying to construct what to write in my letter of school resignation.  
  
Ah, fuck it. I'll just call the school and tell them I don't wanna have anything shit to do with them and I'm quitting.  
  
Momma is not gonna like it but who cares?  
  
It's my life and I'm gonna lead it however I want.


	8. Chapter 8

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 7**

  
I did it.  
  
I went to school and told the principal that I'm quitting.  
  
I know, I said I was going to call them, but I think it would be better that I told him in person.  
  
It's gonna make the experience so much better.  
  
When I went to the principal's office, though it kinda reminds me of the last time I went in there for something I have done (particularly the one where Jan wasn't around), he was enjoying his lousy decaf coffee and eating Dunkin' Donuts like all fatass principal who enjoys to just laze around inside rather than getting involved outside where the student welfare actually mattered.  
  
 **Principal: Ah, Ms. Anderson. I was about to call your home to ask of your whereabouts, since you have been absent from school more than the grace period time of absence  
  
Me: Flowery words, Mr. P, but I'm here to tell you, I quit school  
  
Principal: Oh? On what grounds?  
  
Me: On the grounds that I don't like it and I don't really give a shit about schooling  
  
Principal: Well, that is some strong opinion there, Ms Anderson, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that  
  
Me: On what grounds?** (I was being sarcastic here)  
  
 **Principal: On the grounds that you are underage and you are in no position to refuse education  
  
Me: Fuck that! You just want my money. Is that it? You want to keep me here so that I can keep paying you bloody school fees and money you do not deserve?  
  
Principal: Now, let's not jump off that far. I never said that  
  
Me: But you implied it  
  
Principal: I merely state that it is my responsibility to keep you educated, to prepare in the real world...  
  
Me: No, you don't. None of what we learn will ever truly apply in the real world, and you fucking know that well  
  
Principal: I will not have language in my office  
  
Me: Well, I'll keep going until you'll let me off, you fucking hypocritical prick  
  
Principal: I don't see any reason I should let you go  
  
Me: And I don't see any reason you SHOULDN'T let me go**  
  
Our argument continued for a while, but I could tell that impotent bastard was losing his patience. I nagged him about first amendments and my freedom of speech and my free will to want to accept education or not, but he didn't seem to want to budge, and he sounded intent to keep me in school no matter what bloody fucking reason I give him or no matter how I argue my point  
  
So you know what I did?  
  
No, I didn't kill him, though I wish to. But I'm not that stupid.  
  
No, I just got myself expelled.  
  
Violence is not tolerated here in my school, so I did the 3-strikes-you're-out kinda thing. I've already have been caught twice for fighting, the 2nd one being the one where I tried to come alone to school without Jan.  
  
So I stormed out of the office, grabbed the first guy I see, slammed his head against the wall just enough to crack his skull a little but not kill him, then gave him a good whacking enough to send him hospitalize.  
  
I've always had a talent in fighting somehow. I dunno where I got my strengths from. I never went for physical training or anything, but my fists tend to have a mean punch somehow and I've got the stamina of something entirely out there.  
  
That's why I told you it's not pretty and you don't wanna know what happened the last time.  
  
Seriously.  
  
So third time is the charm. Mr. P had no choice but to expel me. Armed with the letter of termination, I came home, feeling rather good at myself. I slapped the letter on the dining table at Momma and made my way upstairs, turning the music out loud and totally ignoring her shouts and banging at the door while typing this.  
  
If it weren't for the fact that Jan is still going freakily MIA on me, I'd say I did the best thing I've ever done in my life.


	9. Chapter 9

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 8**

  
Jan hasn't answered my calls.  
  
Again.  
  
He hasn't answered my texts either.  
  
Again.  
  
He's not even online.  
  
Again!  
  
He's not even answering his doorbell and his parents are just frickin' not there all the time.  
  
AGAIN!!  
  
What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?! You were fine all the way ever since I met you in junior high! Now all of a sudden you're like behaving like some sort of weirdo from the frickin' Twilight Zone or something!!  
  
Why don't you answer my calls?? Reply my text?? Go online?? Get the fuck up and answer the door??  
  
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??!!


	10. Chapter 10

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 9**

  
Holy crap...  
  
HolycrapholycrapholycrapholycrapholyCRAP...  
  
Jan is dead.  
  
Jan is fucking dead.  
  
I'm not kidding!  
  
I'M NOT KIDDING!!  
  
Jan is DEAD!!


	11. Chapter 11

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 10**

  
God, I can't believe...I can't believe this is happening.  
  
Jan...Jan is dead...  
  
I guess I should start from the top.  
  
God, my hands are shaking just typing this damn post.  
  
The day before I made that last post, I decided to put my foot down and investigate once and for all what the hell was going on with Janphen and his little recluse phase. I decided to go forth after giving Bushy his nightly feedings.  
  
As I walked down to his home, so many questions were spinning in my mind.  
  
What happened to us? What happened to him? Why is he behaving this way? What could possibly have caused such a drastic change in him? What did he mean by me knowing where, who or WHAT Pops is? Does he know something about Pops that I don't?  
  
And where the hell are his parents? They should at least be around worrying about their son being like a fuckin' hermit crab at home and call in the shrink or the exorcist or whatever, not going MIA all of a sudden!  
  
So there I was, in front of Jan's house and rang the doorbell and banged at the door for the umpteenth time. Thank goodness for neighbours who minded their own business, or I would've been seen creating scene at the time.  
  
Though after what happened...I had wished they were a little nosy...  
  
When I tried the door, it was surprisingly open this time, unlike the last few times when I find it locked. I entered and called out for Jan's parents.  
  
No dice.  
  
I called Jan's name.  
  
No go either.  
  
There was this really awful smell going about in the house. Like something just died and rot in a corner or whatever. I reached for the lights to turn it on so that I can see better.  
  
I wish I wasn't right about what I thought it was, and I wish that I had not turned on the lights.  
  
His folks were sitting at the dining table as if having a family supper, just without Janphen there. They seemed to be arranged like they were leaning back against their seat, their eyes rolled up to the back of their heads and their mouths agape into a frozen scream of horror.  
  
They were gutted like fucking fish and the guts were arranged onto the dinner plates placed before them, part of it still linked into the cavity of where their innards were supposed to be. Blood was everywhere on the dining table and on their clothes. And I don't need to be a genius to see that the content in the wine glasses served on the table was not red wine.  
  
I fought the urge to scream and run, or to puke my guts out because the thought of Janphen was on my mind. The first place I thought would be his room, so I made a run for it upstairs and banged at his door.  
  
The door gave way, creaking open as if it hadn't been closed properly.  
  
How I wish I had obeyed the urge to run.  
  
I saw him, hanging on the ceiling by a power cord around his neck. He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days judging by the malnourished look on his face, and he was pale as hell. He wore the same clothes he was wearing when I came to visit him, and his room was littered with pieces of paper with just this symbol of a crossed-out circle.  
  
It was all over the place, littered on the walls, on the floors, on the bed and drawn with some sort of white paint on his computer screen. He even had some of those blasted symbols stuck onto his body.  
  
But that wasn't the freaky part.  
  
He. Was. Smiling.  
  
He was hanging by his neck on the ceiling and his eyes were rolled up his head like his rents were and he was fucking smiling!  
  
Like he was fucking happy that he was dead!  
  
I heard some sort of rustling sounds outside his window and that fucking broke me out of my trance. I quickly made a run for it out of the house and finally puked and hurled onto the grass outdoors. After puking out the last of the bile, I took out my cellphone and called the police.  
  
It was a long process of questioning and writing report and whatnot, but it was finally over. I went home with Momma and she offered to make me something to drink to calm my nerves, but for once, I didn't shout at her to fuck off and mind her own business, but said "No, thanks" and went to my room. I wasn't in the mood and I had no appetite anyways.  
  
Janphen...My best friend...  
  
My ONLY friend...  
  
Is dead...  
  
Please....  
  
Please...  
  
Tell me this is all a dream...  
  
Please...


	12. Chapter 12

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 11**

  
Momma is knocking at my door again.  
  
I tell her to go away and leave me alone.  
  
Fuck, can't I even mourn for my best friend in peace?  
  
I heard that some of Jan's relatives from another town are going to come down to proceed with the funeral services, that is, after the boys in blue are done autopsying him and his rents and reporting it to whoever was in charge of handling Jan's case.  
  
  
The boys in blue came yesterday to question me again, and I just told them what I knew, what I saw and what Jan and I have been through for the past few days before he started acting like shit to me.  
  
They asked me if I knew he had any troubles or was depressed or was on medication. I told them I knew none of the sort. I told them he was perfectly fine, and we even had sex after we went to watch some R-rated movies. Momma didn't look surprised that I told them I lost my virginity to Jan. She had expected we were a couple.  
  
It's not like that. It's just casual sex. We're friends. Best friends who have sex with each other.  
  
That's it.  
  
The blue boys looked at me like my relationship was the most complicated ever when I said that.  
  
What the fuck is so complicated about us being just friends and still have sex?  
  
Geez...  
  
Anyway they did ask me about whether I know what the symbols that he drew around his room meant, and again, I told them I knew nothing. Not sure whether they believed me or not but they didn't seem to ask me anymore.  
  
If I'm not mistaken, once the blue boys were done with Jan, the funeral would commence sometime 2 weeks later  
  
Damn, after what I saw, I don't think I would want to attend the funeral.  
  
They might just pin the blame on me, since I was the closest to him, like as if I SHOULD have seen this coming and prevented it.  
  
In a way, it would've been right.  
  
I was his best friend. He was my only friend. We were together thick and thin since, like, ever. I should have seen this coming.  
  
But I didn't.  
  
Because I couldn't.  
  
And whatever that symbol is and whatever he said about Pops, gotta have to be something to do with his death.  
  
I'm gonna fucking find out about this.  
  
And kill that bastard.


	13. Chapter 13

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 12**

  
I have done a bit of looking up on this weird symbol that I found. I've spent all day and all night searching through the net to see if there is anything that would explain what that symbol is, since I dunno the name and I could only type the word "weird symbol" on the Search engine and sieve through a gajillion pictures to find the one I was looking for.  
  
Thank God I've got the patience to the point of inhuman when it comes to doing things that I really set my mind to it.  
  
Apparently, this symbol is called The Operator Symbol. Something that has to do with some sort of internet cult known as the "Slenderman Phenomena". Says in this website that The Operator Symbol can either be considered a sign for protection against this motherfucker or some sort of compulsion the victims of Slenderman tend to have after their encounter with that mo-fo.  
  
Is that it? Jan got involved in some Slender-watchamacallit shit and ended up becoming something out of the Twilight Zone? How dense can he get? I thought he's all about NOT getting into this sort of shit! I thought he didn't believe in all this kind of crap.  
  
What the hell...?  
  
I'm gonna research on this some more. Maybe try to make sense of all of this shit.  
  
Later.


	14. Chapter 14

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 13**

  
Sorry for the late entry here, but I've been going through some really weird shit trying to investigate this odd Slenderman guy, and boy, do I have a freaky result up in hand.  
  
OK, so after I searched through the web about Slenderman, this is pretty much what I got:  
  


> The Slender Man is a mythical creature completely created on the Internet which has grown beyond its Internet Urban Legend status to become the target of pictures, fictional stories and videos about "him".
> 
> He's often depicted as a tall and thin silhouette, wearing black pants, a black suit with a white shirt, and a black necktie underneath. What is startling and creepy about this creature is that he is usually depicted with absolutely no visible face. Furthermore, he can stretch out or shortens his arms as well as he hides some kind of tentacles on his back.

  
  
So basically some dude named Victor Surge got bored, decided to start up some fucking shit, goes to this forum website called Something Awful and joined a "Create Paranormal Images" contest or something, made up this stupid Slenderman and posted it in the contest, and now shit just comes up and everyone starts thinking he's real??  
  
How dense can they be?  
  
Come on, they even did an interview to that sucker and he admitted to all those fake photos. But I see some weird shit comments about people saying that it's real and that this sucker had first account of the monster, which he tries to bring it to the public's attention of its existence.  
  
People. They can be really dense sometimes.  
  
I mean, look at these pics.   
  
Fake shit.   
  
Come on, copy-paste and blurring much?  
  
OK, this is obvious fake. I mean, Doc Oc much?  
  
The kicker on this last photo is that it includes a so-called "news report" of the kid gone missing a few days after this picture was taken, which is, of course, total fake. And that Victor bugger admits it too.  
  
How could Jan fall for these? What exactly is behind these photos that he thinks it's so goddamn real? Even a retard can tell it's fake.  
  
Though I gotta admit, even though it's fake...it kinda creeps me out a little...  
  
\--:--  
  
I decided to type Slenderman in the image search engine to see how he looks like in other people's eyes, and boy, do I get a LOT of weird shit.  
  
To know about this motherfucker is something, but to actually draw and illustrate him into this sort of sucker?  
  
This is fucked up  
  
\--:--  
  
More weird-ass picture art of Slenderman.  
  
Attempts to anthromorphize this motherfucker is really just so whacked.  
  
What is it that people see in this guy that they have this morbid fascination for even though they know he's fake?  
  
What does Jan see in this monster?  
  
And what does it have to do with what he's talking about Pops?


	15. Chapter 15

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 14**

  
Sorry for not logging in on updates or anything. Been researching things like crazy, and something happened that made me gone into withdrawal for a while.  
  
Janphen's funeral was on the way last week. I was expected to attend, but I didn't. I couldn't face the fact that it could've been my fault that he was dead. That I didn't see the signs and allowed it to happen. I just stayed outside the church where the funeral services was done, hearing the preacher droning on and on about blessings and life after death and whatnot (I'm not a sucker for religion, really), and people delivering eulogies for him.  
  
Some of them were bullshit though, just a farce, because I've known Jan long enough to know that some of the things they said are totally not what I know about Jan.  
  
Or maybe it really is something I didn't know about Jan, the other side of him. He did, after all, became my friend not entirely by choice.  
  
Choice...  
  
I remember his words that day I visited him.  
  
 ** _Maybe...Maybe I am...I dunno...Maybe I'm just sick of all this..._**  
  
What was he sick of? Life in general? Me?  
  
 ** _Do you KNOW where your dad is? Do you know WHO your dad is? Do you even KNOW WHAT he is? Do you??? DO YOU???!!!_**  
  
Those were his last words.  
  
His last final words of desperation.  
  
Desperate for me to hear, to understand.  
  
And what did I do? I ditched him, and left him for dead.  
  
I didn't even have the courage to go up to the funeral procession where they carried his and his rents' body to the cemetery to be buried. I just stood somewhere far away and hid behind a couple of trees, watching from my spot as they lowered him six feet under.  
  
When the funeral ended and Jan's relatives who handled the funeral caught sight of me, I got the hell outta dodge.  
  
I'm not gonna stand there and wait for them to scream at my face and rubbing it in that it was all my fault.  
  
I've had enough wallowing in self-pity and beating myself up the past few weeks to know it.  
  
Anywho, I've decided to make print-outs of everything that I have studied about this Slender-freak (including the pictures) and keep them in folders for references later. Heh, the last time I did this was for an assignment at school. Didn't think I'd actually be that hardworking for this shit.  
  
I dunno, maybe making print-outs and studying them helps me cope with the loss, that by studying them, I will know what hit Jan so hard to drive him to this madness, and subsequently be close to him.  
  
I actually showed Momma some of the freaky drawings of the Slender-shit and she totally freaked out, telling me to burn that garbage and ran to her room crying hysterically.  
  
Wonder what was that about?


	16. Chapter 16

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 15**

  
I had an argument with Momma today.  
  
Why, you ask? What did she do this time, you ask?  
  
She totaled my research that's why!  
  
2, 3 weeks of research down the toilet because she decided to go bonkers and tore up all my folders and whatever I had in them and threw them into the fireplace.  
  
I fucking told her not to ever, EVER, enter my room without my permission! I even forced her to sign an agreement on this! And what does she do? I turn my back for one moment to go out and buy myself some take-out for lunch and come back to see her ransacking my room, walking back and forth from my room to the fireplace and tearing up my folders and my research and pictures while sobbing like a fucking scorned 3-year-old. Fucking breach of contract, that's what!  
  
She was absolutely hysterical, screaming and crying like I just gave her a whoop in the ass or something (not that I'm not tempted to) and told me I shouldn't dabble into things that I have no understanding of. I tried to stop her from tearing up anymore of my hard work and she frickin' freaked out and pushed me away like I was some kind of disease.  
  
I told her whatever I research is my own business and none of hers, and I just wanted to find the meaning behind Jan's death, but she wouldn't listen. She screamed back at me to tell me to leave it alone and that Jan's death was just an unfortunate incident of a depressed child. I asked her how would she know whether Jan's depressed or not and she just clammed up and threw the last of my stuff into the fire.  
  
Fucking bitch! What the hell, man?? What the FUCK is her problem??  
  
Fuck, that's it! That's IT!  
  
I'm getting the hell outta dodge.


	17. Chapter 17

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 16**

  
Phew! That was the last of the things that I've piled up.  
  
As you may guess it, I have moved out of the house.  
  
I gotten the hell outta dodge and I will never turn back.  
  
I've gotten all the things that I needed, left a not-so-farewell note behind for Momma, picked up Bushy to bring along with me and just left in the middle of the night.  
  
Well, I gotta have some form of company now, don't I? Bushy pretty much fits the bill.  
  
It wasn't easy to pack the printer, laptop and my clothes in one suitcase, but somehow I managed. Surprisingly.  
  
Guess where I am now?  
  
Bet you can't.  
  
Give up?  
  
I'm at Jan's place.  
  
Yes, that's right, I got the hell outta dodge and moved in to Jan's place.  
  
Or to be more specific, his attic.  
  
Only Jan and I know about this place. Not even his clueless rents know about this attic because it just so happen to be above Jan's room through a trapdoor on his ceiling directly above his bed, and he wasn't about to share this secret place with his rents or anything. I'm the only person he had ever told about this place.  
  
We even had sex in here.  
  
Those were good times.  
  
Definitely the perfect place to not rouse any suspicion.  
  
The electricity and water may be a bit of a problem (though it's still running for the moment), as well as food or whatever, but I'll get my way around it.  
  
Come on, what better way to investigate this phenomena and research on my Slendy-shit than from the source, right?  
  
OK, I admit, it gives me the creeps a little being here, seeing that both Jan and his rents totally hit rock bottom six feet under here, but it was the best place to hide out from Momma and beat the rental and traveling expenses.  
  
It's not like I have anywhere else to go, or wanna go anywhere outta town anyhow.  
  
I'm sure Jan wouldn't mind, and would've wanted me to crash in his place if I ever get outta my own home.  
  
Besides, there may be clues in this house here that might give me a hint as to what all this Slendy-shit is about. Especially Jan's room, where it all began.  
  
Which reminds me, I better grab whatever stuff that is around in Jan's room before they decide to clean up the place. Those crime scene cleaners can really do a number on a dead house and I don't want to lose any precious evidence or clues as to why Jan died.  
  
From what I heard from word of mouth, the boys in blue have already finished processing the place, taking whatever they needed to investigate on Jan and his rents before deciding the verdict of Jan being a psycho and having a meltdown and did a murder-suicide fiasco.  
  
Jan is not a psycho, though he did have a meltdown, and that murder-suicide fiasco had everything to do with whatever he was obsessively researching about.  
  
I'm gonna find out and put an end to it.  
  
I'm printing out all my research from scratch again.  
  
Thank God for internet bookmarks.


	18. Chapter 18

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 17**

  
Or is it Day 18? 19? 20? 200?  
  
Ah, who cares?  
  
I'm totally knee-deep in this shit now.  
  
I've been hunting about in the internet to do more research on this Slender character. From what I can hear and see from my spot in the secret attic, they've already sent people to cut off the water and electricity.   
  
I had to rely on candles for light (that I stole from my own house or from other people's kitchens whenever I have the chance to sneak in) and smuggling empty water bottles and stealing water from people's gardens, as well as shoplifting from nearby convenient stores and grocery shops for food. And I jack other people's power outlets just to have my laptop charged.  
  
I even have to hijack neighbouring internets just to get a signal to go online.  
  
And I can tell you, bad reception and crappy internet lines can be a bitch sometimes.  
  
Haven't really gotten around to the bathing part yet though, but it's not important anyways.  
  
Bushy comes and goes these days. He knows that I won't be able to feed him on a regular basis, since I'm busy trying to feed myself as well, and he's self-sufficient enough to hunt for his own food and return to me on his own time, and when I'm available, I'll be able to give him some of my scraps.  
  
I managed to find a couple dozens of blogs dedicated to Slenderman and stuff, most of them obviously fake, since they just assume some sort of weird identity and just make up some sort of stupid encounters between them and the Tall and Pale. I even read through some stories in certain forums and story-telling websites which also detail the so-called writers' encounters with him.  
  
They're all fake.  
  
Obviously all fake.  
  
I knew it.  
  
We all knew it.  
  
Even Victor Surge admitted it so.  
  
Then why is it so infectious? Why is it so contagious? Why is it so malicious?  
  
Why is it so convincing that it drove Jan to the point of insanity?  
  
I gotta know.  
  
I really gotta know.


	19. Chapter 19

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 18**

  
Momma was looking for me.  
  
Word on the street tells me that she's on a lookout for me.  
  
Well, technically it's more like from what I heard from those gossip mongers from across the house that I can catch from time to time.  
  
They said she was totally frantic, that she was going from house to house, knocking on doors, asking about me, wondering where I was.  
  
I even heard that she filed a police report of my disappearance, and she suspected that I might be in Jan's place, but so far there were no search attempts on me and no one, not even the boys in blue, has yet to set foot in this house.  
  
Some of them ratted me out, saying that they see me sometimes at the convenient stores and grocery shops where I snagged my food, so now I have to totally avoid those places for the time being so that I wouldn't run into her.  
  
But most of them dunno where the hell I am.  
  
Which is pretty much good riddance.  
  
Why should she care? She's been blaming me for Pops' disappearance for ages. She made it very clear that she hated me, that I was a mistake. So why should she worry about me? Why should she even give a damn about me?  
  
Shouldn't she be happy that I'm gone or something?  
  
Ah, well, fuck her. I got more research to do.


	20. Chapter 20

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 19**

  
I've plowed through this entire channel called Marble Hornets that many Slender fans claim to be an indisputable account of Slenderman encounters by this guy who calls himself Jay or J or some shit.  
  
I researched on this Marble Hornet guys, and they admit it's fake, a sort of personal ARG project they were doing in lue with the Slenderman fandom.  
  
They even admitted it to be so, and yet people continue to flock all over their channel to watch it, some even got to the point where they think it was actually real and they're just telling everyone that it's fake to downplay the hype.  
  
I mean, come on, look at that Slenderman guy they're having in their so-called 'footage'. It's so obvious that it's just some silly huge man-made mannequin that they just put up together and Frankenstien-ed it into an arts and crafts reject. How could anyone fall for that?  
  
I can make better stilt-looking guys than this.  
  
Though, to be honest, while they're pretty fake and all, I gotta admit, it was actually quite creepy.  
  
They got the timing, the special effects, the mystery and the dialogues pretty right, I'll give 'em that.  
  
Got myself a Long John sandwich, maybe I should share it with Bushy…  
  
No, wait, he's not around today. I guess he thought I won't be feeding him again today, so decided to go out hunting as usual.  
  
Ah, well, more for me then.  
  
Huh, new video update from Marble Hornets.  
  
I guess it couldn't hurt watching.  
  
For research.


	21. Chapter 21

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 20**

  
Fuck…  
  
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…  
  
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…  
  
What the fuck…  
  
Bushy is dead…  
  
Bushy is fucking dead…  
  
One minute I saw him climbing up through the attic window as I was about to go to sleep…  
  
Then the next moment I see him, or what's left of him, sticking out of the window, bleeding all over the place, without even making a single squeak.  
  
I could've sworn I only closed my eyes for a few minutes, and I'm a bit of a light sleeper; I'd wake up if anything louder than a knock on the door is heard.  
  
No one could do this without making at least a cry.  
  
I would've heard it.  
  
I should've heard it.  
  
But I didn't.  
  
Who the hell could've done this?  
  
No…  
  
No, it can't be.  
  
Could it?


	22. Chapter 22

**DEAR BLOG DIARY-DAY 21**

  
I can't stay here anymore.  
  
People are starting to get suspicious about the mysterious goings-on in here, and I have a feeling sooner or later the boys in blue are going to come over to investigate again.  
  
I dunno, maybe someone caught sight of me sneaking in and out of this house.  
  
Maybe someone saw me through the boarded-up windows when I walked around the house trying to find clues about Jan and his reasons for all this Slender shit.  
  
Maybe I forgot to blow out the candles and people caught sight of my shadow or something.  
  
Or maybe someone saw Bushy's body sticking out of the attic window and that caught their attention.  
  
Whatever the reason, I gotta get outta here.  
  
Will be a while before I can update this damn blog thing.  
  
I dunno why am I still going on with this, but I guess if I don't do this, I might just go insane like Jan too without no one or nothing to vent.  
  
Right, laters.


	23. Chapter 23

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Right, from now on, I'm just gonna stop counting days now. It's not like I'm really counting anyways.  
  
Anywho, I've finally gotten myself a new place to stay and hide out. It's not much, and it's a little close to the L-train tracks, but it's better than nothing. And besides, I get to work right where I live.  
  
That's right, I got a job at a rent-controlled apartment. A girl's gotta eat, ya know.  
  
I get to live in this apartment for free, in exchange for helping the manager to be the Fix-it guy around here, since I'm pretty good with tools somehow, and the tips I earn will be enough to help me get by with food and anything I wish to buy to furnish my place. It's a bit of a sorry excuse for a home, but it's still home nonetheless. Beggars can't be choosers.  
  
The best part is that there are lonely old cronies who live here and would pay me extra to help them get around their home and gladly feed my pie hole just to keep them company and listen to their boring good-ol'-days stories.  
  
Anyways, I managed to snag as much relevant items as possible from Jan's place before I went lickety-split outta there. A bit of trinkets here and there, whatever I could salvage that the police didn't grab from Jan's computer, and surprise, surprise! Jan's diary too. I never knew he was a diary writer. No wonder he wanted me to have a blog diary all of a sudden.  
  
Of all my entries, I bet you never knew how Jan became my one and only friend, huh?  
  
Well, technically it all started a few months after the "visitations" stopped. I was outside playing with my toys and he just somehow approached me with his lunchbox on tow. He asked me if I wanted a lemon drop, and we've been friends ever since.  
  
I'm not an approachable person, to tell the truth. There is something about people that I don't seem to like, something that makes me want to just choke the life out of them so that they'll leave me alone. Call me anti-social or whatever, but as you can tell from my interactions with the principal the last time in my previous entry, you can more or less tell that it was my best civil behavior I could muster. Any given time, it would've been the principal instead of that random sap I grabbed that would've had his head bashed in.  
  
Which reminds me of…  
  
Nah, never mind. Like I said, you don't wanna know.  
  
Seriously, don't ask.  
  
Anyways, surprisingly I don't feel that way towards Jan. He was everything I wasn't—friendly, outgoing, full of life, happy-go-lucky and a bit of a jokester and a flirt at heart. Everything that I despised on everyone was on him, and yet I could not feel a single aversion from him. It was almost like he was my polar opposite, like he completed me somehow, and that's how we tolerated each other.  
  
That's right, I said "tolerate", coz even though we were never really at each other's throats, deep down inside, we somehow knew that we could never be friends, no matter how hard we try. And it was something we both silently acknowledged. An unwritten agreement.  
  
But that doesn't mean we can't lust for each other.  
  
Friends with benefits. That's what we are.  
  
Well, _were_.  
  
Phew, I hadn't written this much in a while. I guess I miss him.  
  
And Bushy.  
  
Well, time to clean the fountain. Cya later.


	24. Chapter 24

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Been reading through Jan's diary for a while. It seems that he only picked up diary-writing quite recently, coz the date seem to start about a month before he started going MIA on me.  
  
And the words were really jumbled and freaky at best.  
  
Here's some that I think were the freaky ones:  
  
 _"Been feeling extra tired lately, must've been that crazy ride George and I had. Better keep my dick in check next time"_  
  
Funny, I don't see you complaining about our sex romp back then. What's with the complaints now?  
  
 _"Had this sudden cough all of a sudden, and none of those cough syrups from the drug store seem to work. Getting me high is more like it. Crap, I better not get the flu. I'd hate to be blamed for getting George sick. Gotta schedule for a doc's appointment soon"_  
  
…He's right. I _would_ blame him.  
  
 _"Been having this odd dream. I can never recall how it started or how it ended, but this symbol always seemed to be the center core of it, sticking in my mind"_  
  
He drew the crossed-out circle at the bottom of the page, the same one he splattered all over the room when I found his body.  
  
 _"I found out the more I hang out with George these days, the more tired and agitated I become. Maybe I should take a break from her for a while. I'm sure she'll survive without me for a day or two"_  
  
This is the time he started MIA on me. But me? Making him tired and agitated? Am I that troublesome?  
  
 _"I'm starting to see things. Outside the window, from the corner of my eyes, behind the trees, within the shadows and corners, even sometimes at the foot of my bed. And the symbol is getting stronger and stronger in my mind. What's wrong with me?"_  
  
Seeing things? What?  
  
 _"The symbols…won't stop…Keeps coming…need to draw them…Need to get it outta my head…"_  
  
 _"He's here…He's here…Watching me…Haunting me…Telling me things…Oh God, make him go away…"_  
  
 _"PleasegoPleasegoPleasegoPleasegoPLEASEgoPLEASEgoPLEASEGOPLEASEGOLEAVEMETHEFUCKALONE!!!"_  
  
 _"George, you shouldn't be here…"_  
  
 _"Oh God, it can't be…it can't be true…It can't be…Not him…Not her…I can't believe it…I WON'T believe it…"_  
  
 _"One little, two little, three little Indians. Four little, five little, six little Indians. Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians. Ten little Indians DIED"_ Then a couple few more nursery rhymes that he sorta edited himself with the words 'died', 'killed', 'stabbed' and other crazy shit, then a long blank before he wrote at the bottom of that page saying _"Don't kill me"_.  
  
The freakiest part was that he left the next few pages blank save a few random doodles of the symbol here and there, and at the last page he wrote these in huge letters:  
  
 _"GEORGE DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?"_  
  
That was super freaky. It's as if he knew I was gonna read his diary or something.  
  
He couldn't have…right?


	25. Chapter 25

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
There's been a bit of a missing children phenomenon lately.   
  
A few months ago a toddler from one of the families in the 10th floor went missing.   
  
Last month it was a little girl, about 7 years old, from the 5th floor, and now, just last week it was another kid from 14th floor (well, technically the 13th floor if you're not a superstitious lot).  
  
The boys in blue came over a few times to investigate. I try to keep a low profile, just in case they might've heard about me from Momma, but I'm more or less in the clear.  
  
The only thing they have in common was that they're kids and they seem to doodle the same picture before they disappeared: a tall man with long arms and legs and black tentacles from its back.  
  
No way…  
  
That was a splitting image of Slenderman!  
  
The fake, viral meme of a character created by a bored individual!  
  
Is that even possible?  
  
That Slendy guy…can't be the real deal, can he…?!


	26. Chapter 26

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
I had an odd dream last night.  
  
Well, technically it's been going on for quite some time, and some of them felt so real, I dunno whether it's supposed to be a dream or a brief childhood memory.  
  
It was always the same dream:  
  
I was 5 years old again, just a few months shy of first meeting Jan. I was at the backyard playing with the water hose and making my own mud castles, generally making a mess of myself as people my age were wont to do. Then I would have the urge to look up, and I would see a tall, bald man kneeling down towards me and his long, lithe hand reaching over to pat my head. Weirdly enough, I wasn't scared of this guy. Well, maybe a little, but somehow at the same time, his presence comforted me.  
  
But I could never make out his face.  
  
That dream has been going on and on for quite a while now. I dunno, maybe about a week? Two weeks? It was almost always the same thing. I was 5, I was doing something and he would come and pat me on the head, and I couldn't see his face. That's all it seemed to be every time.  
  
Could it be Pops? I wouldn't know. Pops left when I was one month old, remember? Even if I want to remember, I dunno how the hell he looks like.  
  
Meanwhile everyone in this apartment was like in curfew mode, since the boys in blue weren't really doing shit. Once it was dark, the rents would lock their kids in the house and Bart the security would bring his gang along (don't even ask me how he got a hold of those motherfucker-looking gangsters) and beef up the security, patrolling the area like it was some sorta Nazi-watch.  
  
Hadn't had a missing kid in a while, but occasionally someone's pet might disappear.  
  
Crap, now it reminds me of Bushy.


	27. Chapter 27

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Things had turned for the worse.  
  
This time, a baby from 3rd floor and a teen from 9th floor was involved.  
  
And the worse part was that death was involved in it too.  
  
The boys in blue came again and it was all-out riot for these people. Death of a teen was one thing, but a _baby_ missing was a whole new issue altogether.  
  
Not something the lazy-ass boys in blue want to have their conscience on.  
  
They assigned this guy called Harrigon to head this case, interrogating the neighbourhood, questioning the locals, that sorta thing. I went under his scrutiny as well, but I knew to keep a low profile and answer civilly and briefly as I should.  
  
If he hadn't seen me clean the pool, he'd prolly wouldn't have noticed or thought of questioning me anyway. That's how low key I am. I can go around unnoticed if I want to, though sometimes if I want it too much, the low key would be gone faster than I expect it to be.  
  
Besides, the last thing I'd want him to know is that I think it may have something to do with some internet viral boogeyman.  
  
He'd think _I'm_ the one doing all the killing and kidnapping, not the Thin and Pale.  
  
I mean…Naw, that's silly…  
  
I couldn't have brought a fake monster to life now, could I?  
  
It has always been fake from Day 1, and we know it.  
  
But all this started coz I moved in here…  
  
That's impossible…  
  
Right?


	28. Chapter 28

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
I'm starting to notice things. Things that I've never noticed before.  
  
I noticed how abnormally dark and damp the apartment basement was every time I went down there for laundry or maintenance.  
  
I noticed how sometimes the light would flicker for no particular reason, even when I've already changed the bulbs.  
  
I noticed things being out of place, things that should be where it is but wasn't and things that shouldn't be there but just won't go away.  
  
I noticed the park behind our apartment seemed to be extra thick and dense, and there were trees that weren't there before.  
  
And I noticed a full-on presence at odd hours of day and night, like someone was both watching and not watching at the same time.  
  
And while all that was going on, I had noticed that Harrigon had started to take interest in the Slendy pics those kids left behind, and subsequently Slendy itself. He took pictures of every crime scene since the first missing case, studied them, mooned over them, trying to make sense of it.  
  
He wondered out loud sometimes, when I caught him skulking about during my clean-up rounds. He wondered if it could be some sort of underground cult, something that maybe one of the residents were secretly practicing.  
  
I doubt he's gonna find anything. I mean, he's chasing a fictional character, there's nothing _to_ catch.  
  
Though after what I've been studying on my own time, from Jan's diary and from what I've experienced back home that led me to here, I can't really rationally explain all this anymore.  
  
I can't help feeling that Harrigon reminded me of the serious side of Jan though.  
  
And I'd hate to see him meet the same fate as Jan.


	29. Chapter 29

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Things have gotten a little outta hand today.  
  
Bart lost control, no, lost his mind was the better word.  
  
Harrigon was investigating something about the missing baby's case when it happened. It was one of those night rounds he did when he thinks he's got a lead on something in his case, though I couldn't be bothered since I was busy checking to see if there are any new updates on Marble Hornets and doing more Slendy research from this blogger who thinks she's a Slenderman guru or something.  
  
Anyways, there was this super huge commotion going on, and I, as the manager's Fix-it guy and sorta right-hand man, had to go check it out. That's when I saw Bart being subdued by Harrigon. Bart looked like he was in some kinda Texas Chainsaw Massacre nightmare or something with his hands, face and shirt covered in blood, and beside them was his famous titanium-forged baseball bat he often took pride of during his patrols, looking like it had been used as a meat cleaver.  
  
The victim of his battery, so to speak, was lying by the pool, bloody and whacked beyond recognition. If it weren't for that special band that says he's Type-2 diabetic, I wouldn't have known that the victim was Williams from 8th floor. He's a bit tall for his age (he's roughly in junior high, I think) and from what I heard, he's the school rep for the swim team. From the looks of it, Bart had made an absolute mash potato number outta Williams and the pool is gonna be one helluva cleanup for me.  
  
But that wasn't entirely the disturbing part.  
  
The disturbing part was what Bart said when he was taken away.  
  
 **Harrigon: You are under arrest, Mr. Slake…  
  
Bart: Don't you see? Don't you see him? He's right there! He's the guy!  
  
Harrigon: You have the right to remain silent…  
  
Bart: I swear to God! That's him! He did it! he did all the killings and kidnappings! He's the guy!  
  
Harrigon: Anything you say will be used against you in the court of law…  
  
Bart: Fuck, would you just shut up and listen to me?! It's him! Can't you see? I'm doing you a goddamn favour…  
  
Harrigon: What you did is bash up a 15-year-old kid who's just out for a swim, you sick fuck! Now shut up and…  
  
Bart: He's right there! HE'S RIGHT THERE!! CAN'T YOU SEE HIS FUCKING LIMBS?! THOSE WEIRD STUFF ON HIS BACK?! ARE YOU FUCKING GODDAMN BLIND?!** (he tried struggling towards the body to try and show Harrigon whatever it was that he saw, but Harrigon gave it to him in the nuts)  
  
 **Harrigon: You know what? You don't deserve the Miranda Rights. You're gonna burn for this, asshole.  
  
Bart:** (he was dragged by the feet as soon as backup came) **Can't you see…? Can't you see it…? Can't you guys see anything…? Look at his face, man…His FACE…!**  
  
All I see was of what was left of Williams' spongy face after Bart done him in. But limbs…? Weird stuff on his back…?  
  
 **Harrigon: You good there, kid?  
  
Me: Yeah, I'm cool, officer.  
  
Harrigon: Hold off the cleanup until after the geek squad is done, OK?** (that's his code name for the crime scene forensic team)  
  
 **Me: Sure, no prob. Standard procedure, I get it.**  
  
He still hadn't decided whether I'm a boy or a girl. I'm just gonna keep him guessing, heh.


	30. Chapter 30

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
The same attacks happened again these couple of weeks, but thankfully none of them resulted in death like Williams did, though I couldn't say that the lesser but still permanent damage was a good thing either.  
  
It was always the same: One of Bart's guys in the security nightwatch team would just suddenly go ballistic and hysterical and targeted random people, screaming bloody murder and beating the life outta the poor bastards like they're some kind of monster.   
  
They would always claim that they saw something on those victims that we can't see, and was still seeing it even though they got dragged away by the boys in blue and have their senses knocked outta them (barely, though), insisting that it's real and we had to look closer.  
  
They almost even targeted one of those poor old cronies I always help with the odds and ends.  
  
And they all said the same thing as Bart said.  
  
 ** _The limbs…The snakey stuff on the back…The face…_**  
  
Harrigon managed to let me in a little on Bart, saying that while he wasn't high, he was clearly mentally unstable and possibly got some brain issue going on there. He said he wouldn't be surprised if Bart and his gang was the culprit behind all this.  
  
I wish it were that simple, officer, but it's not, as much as I hate to admit it.  
  
He has no idea who's he up against.  
  
And sadly, neither am I.


	31. Chapter 31

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Oh my God…  
  
Oh my fucking God…  
  
I saw it…  
  
I saw…IT…  
  
Him…  
  
I saw HIM…!!


	32. Chapter 32

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Alright, gotta calm down…  
  
Gotta calm the fuck down…  
  
Take a deep breath. That's it.  
  
I can't believe this is happening. All this…All this is so weird…  
  
Hold up, lemme just backtrack a little bit before I get ahead of myself.  
  
A couple of months before I made my last spooky post, the apartment was more or less calmed down a little after Bart and his posse were all taken into custody for  their sudden murder spree. Harrigon had his hands tied with them, so he hadn't been visiting for quite some time to work on his leads.   
  
When he did come over, it was always what weird stuff he's been hearing Bart and his posse blabbering about while they're behind bars. They were all going on and on about how the victims that they attacked were frickin' stilt monsters and how super sure they were that they have got the right one, the one that had been behind the missing kids and the first dead teen from this apartment.  
  
He even called in docs and shrinks to check them out and all tests that had anything to do with drugs that might mess up their brains came out negative. They weren't high, not even on oregano, whatever the hell that dope means, and the shrinks couldn't figure out how the hell they could come up with the same story and same description at separate events. Sure, they had a history of violence and stuff in their rap sheet, but none of them showed anything that had to do with mental health or brain issues.  
  
Frankly, they were stumped. No one knew what to do with them and they sure as hell are still stoked on the monster theory and not safe to be out in the street.  
  
Then a month ago before my post, shit just happened.  
  
Bart and his posse went missing. Every single one of them, gone from their cells.  
  
Yup, seriously, with bars and locks untouched and all.  
  
No, I didn't find this out from Harrigon—I'd prolly be the last person he'd think to confide to—but from what I gather from the newspapers and the editor/reporter guy—Ted is his name, I think—in 6th floor.  
  
Apparently outta nowhere, when the night shift was doing his rounds at the holding cells at the station, he saw that the cells that held Bart and his posse were empty. The door was still locked tight, and there were no sign of forced entry, but Bart and his posse were not where they were supposed to be. Security cameras didn't catch anyone who might have let them out, and neither did Bart and his posse walked out the front door or anything.  
  
It was like they upped and vanished into thin air.  
  
And the creepy part was that the walls of their cells were littered with drawings of the crossed-out circle. What they used to draw that shit, I don't even wanna know.  
  
The cops were having a field day searching for them, and even dropped by here in the apartment to see if they came back here and hide, but no such luck. Harrigon, when I saw him from where I was, fixing the door frame of the old crony from 7th floor, did not look like a happy camper, that much I can say.  
  
Two weeks ago, they found them.  
  
Surprisingly, it wasn't very far from the station and they couldn't believe they never thought of checking it in the first place.  
  
They found them in the forests of the park behind the station, and from what I see in the newspapers and from the pictures Ted took and showed me as a favour for cleaning out his drowning kitchen, it was not a pretty sight.  
  
Bart and his posse were all present and accounted for, alright, but not entirely in one piece. They were all found gutted and pretty mutilated, and they were all skewered on the branches of the trees like some goddamn shish-kebabs or something. Like they were pieces of meat hung out to dry and ready to be barbecued on a stake.  
  
And the freaky thing was that the trees they were skewered onto were super tall and high. Like 10, 20 feet, that kind of tall and high.  
  
Unless you're at least as tall as Andre the Giant, there is no frickin' way a normal person would be able to climb those trees while carrying a full-grown man, let alone an entire posse.  
  
The worst part was (if things could get any more worse) that they've found the kids. Every single one of them. And they were all just about a few more miles deeper down the same forests, and they were all skewered just like Bart and the posse.  
  
Including the baby.  
  
That just totally opened a shit load of floodgates for that one.  
  
I mean, think about it: missing kids that included a baby in the mix, a bunch of crazy-ass adrenaline junkies up for a little vigilante justice, weird disappearance under the cops' watch, and their bodies found just right behind the cops' territory, right under their very noses, and the boys in blue didn't even notice? That's a whole lotta messed up going on over there.  
  
Which sorta brings me to my last post.  
  
I was finally given clearance by the forensic team to clean the pool and the other areas Bart and his posse had their hands on those poor bastards last week. After the finding of the bodies, the entire apartment was totally livid. They were this close to tearing the cops and the geek squad apart, including Harrigon, for what had happened to those kids, even more so when they were found so close to the station and no one bothered to give a shit's notice about it. People were starting to move out left and right, and the apartment has turned into one helluva ghost building. Only the old cronies who were too senile and rickety to lift a finger remained.   
  
Personally I wouldn't blame the residents for moving. I mean, after what they've been through? I'd leave too if I were in their shoes. But I gotta stay. This place is the only place I've got, and I can't afford to leave, and frankly I wouldn't wanna get found by Momma, not after what she's done to me.  
  
Anyways, I was emptying the pool late that evening and was just getting down to scrubbing it when I suddenly felt abnormally cold, like I just stepped out from a sauna and into a meat locker. I tried to chalk it up to the upcoming autumn, but it was just too cold to be autumn, but not too cold to be winter either. It filled me with a sense of dread, yet at the same time a disturbing sort of calm—a contrast that shouldn't exist together.  
  
And that's where I saw it…Him.  
  
He wasn't very clear at first. I was looking up from my position inside the deep empty pool and saw something dark and blurry incoming. A silent rustle and a soft patter here and there, but not distinct enough to pinpoint his exact position.   
  
Then slowly he came in view into the light. His feet appeared first, one by one, as he sorta climbed down—more like stepped down without effort—into the pool with me. Then his hands and arms were in view, those long, slender-white fingers running slowly along the pool tiles, briefly brushing against the caked-up blood of Williams at the edge of the pool. The way he walked was dead silent, even more silent than a snake that slithered on the smoothest surface you can think of. It was like as if his feet didn't even registered the ground or gravity, but still they were solidly firm on earth.  
  
Then he slouched a little and I could see his torso, and that's when I noticed he was wearing some kinda business outfit that was super black, blacker than the blackest thing I could imagine, and there was no telling where the suit ended and where the pants started, or whether the tie was part of the suit or a separate item of it. He started to slowly extend one of his hands as if to reach over me and I found myself completely paralyzed. Rooted to the spot, my legs did not obey my orders to high-tail outta there and run.  
  
Before I knew, he was kneeling in front of me and his hand extended towards the top of my head, as if to pat me, and I saw his face.  
  
Or there lack of.  
  
There was nothing I could see on that face. It's not even something that meant your vision was blurred or whatever. It was just completely empty. Smooth, white and completely empty, yet at the same time, it bore completely into my eyes, transfixing me with his non-existent gaze, holding me in, keeping me there.  
  
Somehow, it was the exact same feeling I felt when I had my mysterious recurring dreams. This was exactly how it happened, exactly how I felt, but I was not dreaming. This was real, right before my eyes.  
  
The Slenderman is real.  
  
I didn't know how long I stood there or how long he and I locked into each other, but somehow, the moment I caught sight of something wriggling and slithering out of his back at the corner of my eye, my limbs felt like they were suddenly working again. I quickly threw the cleaning broom I was holding at him and made a mad dash to the ladder and climbed the hell outta that pool, never turning back until I was safe and locked inside within my own apartment home.  
  
And the first thing I did after that was put that post.  
  
Fuck…  
  
Fuck me…  
  
He is real…  
  
He is REAL…!!


	33. Chapter 33

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Momma found me.  
  
I dunno how and I dunno why, but somehow she found me.  
  
But surprisingly, she wasn't here to take me away or bring me home.  
  
She's just here to see me, and boy, did she look like she's seen better days.  
  
Well, it all started last night when I finished my rounds at the parking lot, making sure things were working as usual, when the manager called me on my walkie-talkie telling me that I got a visitor. I thought it was Harrigon coming in again to ask me more unanswerable questions like he usually does, but when I got down to the lobby, there she was, my good ol' Momma, dressed in her so-called Sunday's best. I had a good mind to just high-tail away from there and leave her stranded there, but since she made it all the way here and hadn't said anything about coming home, I given her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
I invited her into my home, no doubt seeing that disapproving look on her face at the scenery (though I don't give a fuck), and offered her something to drink. She took one look at the research papers and folders and the website page I had on my laptop and made a small cringe before sitting down on the sofa.  
  
 **Momma: You're still meddling into things you don't understand, like I told you not to.  
  
Me: I'm not under your roof now, so what I do is none of your fucking business.  
  
Momma: Language, George.  
  
Me: Not. Under. Your. Roof. Understand English?**  
  
I slammed the soda can onto the coffee table just to emphasize my point, and I think I made her jump a little bit, so I guess she got the message, coz she didn't say a word for almost quite a while until I had to break the ice.  
  
 **Me: So, if you're not bringing me home—and I'm not coming home with you either way—what the hell are you doing here? How'd you find me anyways?  
  
Momma: I had a…feeling you'd be here, after I read the papers.  
  
Me: The papers? What, you think I've got something to do with whatever happened in the papers?  
  
Momma: In a way, yes.**  
  
There she goes again, talking in riddles whenever that mood of hers decided to strike. I wonder if she got herself drunken up before she got here.  
  
 **Me: Fine, if you're not gonna be frank with me, then just grab your soda and go. You've found me, you've got your wish, mission accomplished, so adios, senorita…  
  
Momma: You've seen him, haven't you?  
  
Me: Seen who?  
  
Momma: You know what I mean. Him.**  
  
Him? Does she mean 'him' him…?  
  
 **Me: I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, woman…  
  
Momma: Don't play dumb with me. I can practically _smell it_ on you**   
  
She stressed those words 'smell it' with gritted teeth, which is frickin' odd, coz she only does that when she's super disgusted about something. That, and when she's obviously drunk.  
  
 **Momma: You never should've been born. I should've tossed you out the moment I knew I had you  
  
Me: Woman, if you're gonna start again about me being a girl and not a boy and that it's my fault Pops left, save it and get the fuck out…  
  
Momma: Your Pops would've left either way. It's not about you being a girl or a boy. It never is. It's about you being… _you_**  
  
She stressed that last word again. Definitely drunk.  
  
 **Me: Oh yeah? What about being me?  
  
Momma: You're an abomination. You shouldn't even exist. I never should've met your father in the first place. You weren't born for the sake of love. You were born for the sake of him!  
  
Me: Huh?  
  
Momma: How could I be so stupid? Your father never loved me. Your father never really cared about me either way. He wanted you to be born so that you would serve _his_ purpose!  
  
Me: His purpose? What the fuck are you talking about? What does Pops have to…  
  
Momma: You think you're so special? You think the world revolves around you and that you can get away with everything you do? You're a monster, George, _his_ monster! His own personal bloodthirsty monster!  
  
Me: Woman, you're not making any sense!  
  
Momma:** (she stood up abruptly and backed away when I tried to approach her to make her get a grip of herself) **You saw him! Don't you deny it, you little monster! You fucking demon! You saw him! He whom your father serves! You…You…  
  
Me: Get a hold of yourself, Momma! You're talking crazy here!  
  
Momma: I should've killed you when I had the chance! I should've just smothered or drowned you the moment your father left! I had so many chances, so many opportunities, but now I can't…He won't let me…Oh no, he wouldn't, he wouldn't let me hurt his precious little monster…Oh no…You…You…**  
  
I was getting a little freaked out by her screaming and rambling, and even more so when she started choking in her words and staring at the window behind me. I turned to see what she was looking at but saw nothing, but clearly she could and it spooked her. She let out a tiny yelp and soon made a mad dash out of my apartment, stumbling at the stairs but never stopping until she was completely out of the building and into the streets.  
  
That's when I finally felt the familiar coldness again.  
  
I turned to look again but still there was no one there, but the feeling lingered.  
  
And I had the feeling I knew what she saw.


	34. Chapter 34

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
I'm starting to see more of him now.  
  
Momma hasn't come back since our confrontation, and true to her word, she never tried to drag me back to that backwater hellhole of a small town she calls home. No boys in blue, no social services, no government official, not even a damn nanny.  
  
It was as if she had completely and utterly wanted nothing of me.  
  
Good riddance.  
  
But since that day, I've been seeing the Thin and Pale quite often.  
  
He hadn't approached me much, just watching me from afar.  
  
When I'm doing the laundry, he would be at the small window that looked down to the basement, peeking in with his slouched form, staring at me quietly.  
  
When I'm at the corridor fixing the lights and fixtures, he would be at the corner of my eye, peeking from the dark, secluded corner of the wall and somehow managed to garner total obliviousness of people walking past him.  
  
When I'm cleaning the pool or the fountain, he'd be there, standing in plain sight but at the same time, obscured from the public eye.  
  
When I'm doing my usual rounds at the parking lot, he'd always maintain within my eyeshot or enough for me to catch him at the corner of my eye, following behind me almost like a little lost puppy but playing some sorta hide-and-seek game with me.  
  
When I'm with the old cronies, he would be at the window, standing just right there behind the blinds, not bothering to be secretive about his presence, not that the old, senile bag of bones noticed anyways.  
  
When I'm in my room, typing away in my blog like what I'm doing right now, or researching more on Slendy through that so-called Slendy guru, he'd be at the window, staring straight at me through the window with that slight tilt of his head, like I'm a curious lil' pet he was still trying to figure out.  
  
The only time he ever approached me or come remotely close to me was when I'm in bed, he leaning against the corner wall of the door or at the foot of my bed, just standing there, looming and watching but not coming any closer. We would occasionally have a staring match with each other, a sort of game we recently started playing, but I would always be the first to balk, since I do have a job that actually taxes me.  
  
Surprisingly, he doesn't scare me anymore. His presence no longer terrifies me. I don't know why or how, but I'm not the least bit afraid of him, or at least not as much as I should be.  
  
In fact, I'm more weirded out if he _didn't_ show up.  
  
Odd, huh?


	35. Chapter 35

**DEAR BLOG DIARY**

  
Momma made it in the papers.  
  
Naw, she didn't die or anything, but she was in trouble for getting someone killed.  
  
Yup, you heard it. Momma sorta killed someone.  
  
According to the papers, Momma somehow made our home into a death trap. People said she was starting to become more and more reclusive, alienating her friends and family since the day I ran away from home (though it's not mentioned in the papers about me running away), then slowly getting more and more neurotic as time went by.  
  
A month after she dropped by my place here, she became a shut-in, not taking calls, not going out, ordering her groceries through phone, that sorta thing. If she didn't take out the trash once in a while, no one knew she was even alive at that point.  
  
The police found our entire house rigged with home-made death traps: from trip-wires to trigger buttons to blasting caps, etc. Everything under the sun was all over the place. They had to call in the bomb squad to try and disable everything just in case she's got some nuke bomb stored somewhere.  
  
And guess who bit the bullet from her trap?  
  
That ol' bitch Mrs. Crumps.  
  
That's right. The owner of that nasty lil' White Witch.  
  
Apparently she played the concerned neighbor and went to check on Momma to see if she was alright when she somehow triggered the trip wire that was rigged to a bloody shotgun aimed at the back door. Hell if I know why she'd wanna come in through the back door, but after her long-standing grudge against us for so-called killing her cat, I doubt she came to see Momma outta the goodness of her heart.  
  
Can't say she deserved it or not, but boy, that was one helluva way to go.  
  
Momma is now in custody awaiting trial and under psych evaluation, says the papers, but I wouldn't put it past the looney bin as her new home.  
  
The Thin and Pale is peeking in through the window again.  
  
I hold up the newspaper to him and asked if he made all this happen.  
  
He didn't reply me, as usual.   
  
He just tilted his head like he usually does.  
  
Figures.


	36. Chapter 36

**DEAR SLENDERMAN**

  
Well, I doubt anyone is really reading my blog, and I doubt they even believe me or care, so I might as well pretend that I'm writing to you.  
  
It's not like you'll reply me. You'll just stay there at your usual spot staring right at me, but at least I know you're listening.  
  
Oh, I know you're listening, alright.  
  
After all, didn't that Slendy guru said something about you able to communicate with people with your mind? Then I'm sure you can read my mind to see what I'm typing down here.  
  
Or you can just move your butt and find another spot so you can have a good view of this laptop right here and just see what I'm writing.  
  
Fine, stay where you are then.  
  
There's something Momma said about me that still bothers me though.  
  
She said I was a monster. That you had Pops create me to be your monster.  
  
What does she mean by that?  
  
…Fine. Gimme the silent treatment, why don't you?  
  
I'm gonna find out sooner or later anyways.


	37. Chapter 37

**DEAR SLENDERMAN**

  
  
Been reading up more about you, not that you don't know what you can already read inside my mind anyways while I type this.  
  
This Slender guru is pretty informative. She seems to have done a lot of research on you to be able to write this.  
  
Have you two met?  
  
I bet you have, or she wouldn't know so much about you.  
  
She wouldn't read up on you and research extensively on you to promote you and inform about you in her blog just for shits and giggles.  
  
Right?  
  
She said you were originally an idea. A fictional just-for-fun monster made by a guy who had too much time in his hand and wanted to scare people in a measly contest, then somehow brought to life due to what she calls the Tulpa Effect, the—as I quote from her—" _the concept of a being as object which is created through sheer willpower alone. It is materialized thought that has taken physical form and is usually regarded as synonymous to a thoughtform_ ".  
  
In plain English, you exist because we made you exist.  
  
So if we don't believe you exist, will you vanish into thin air?  
  
Will you disappear into oblivion?  
  
Will _I_ disappear into oblivion?  
  
Which makes me kinda wonder…  
  
Did Victor Surge really create you?  
  
Or have you always existed all along, like what some of this Slender guru dug up about references of monsters that resemble you in the Dark Ages?  
  
Have you always been around Victor all along and he's just spreading you around, like what you're making me do right now?  
  
Am I your monster…or are you mine?


	38. Chapter 38

**DEAR SLENDERMAN**

  
Harrigon has gone missing.  
  
Ted told me that he wanted to do a follow-up on the skewered bodies case and went to the police station, but he wasn't there.  
  
In fact, no one has seen him for about a week now.  
  
No phone calls, no messages, no note, nothing.  
  
He wasn't even in his house, the last time his partner checked.  
  
Slender…?  
  
What did you do?


	39. Chapter 39

**DEAR SLENDERMAN**

  
You didn't have to do that…  
  
Slender, you really shouldn't have done that…  
  
They've only just pissed me off a little bit…You didn't have to…  
  
And Harrigon…  
  
What have you done with Harrigon…?  
  
Wasn't it enough that you made him your scapegoat?  
  
Wasn't it enough that you made him think that he was going crazy, that he thought he was the one who skewered Bart and his posse and the kids and the baby…?  
  
Wasn't it enough that you're driven him insane and made him so marked you'd find him in a milk carton?  
  
Why did you have to…?  
  
Why did you have to kill him?  
  
Why did you have to kill him and those old cronies who pissed me off? They've done nothing wrong!   
  
Well, maybe they did, but not Harrigon! He was just doing his goddamn job!  
  
You think his investigation would lead him to me? He's got nothing on me! I didn't do anything! _You_ did! You killed all those guys and all evidence points towards you, not me! He doesn't even believe you exist!  
  
Why did you have to kill him, like you killed Jan?  
  
Why?  
  
WHY?!


	40. Chapter 40

**DEAR SLENDERMAN**

  
I think I get it.  
  
I think I get you now.  
  
I think I know why I'm here, why I exist.  
  
I exist because you exist, but at the same time, you need me to continue existing.  
I was your proxy, your Tulpa Paradox.  
  
Ain't that a cool word I just made up? Tulpa Paradox.  
  
I exist because you used a medium, a direct proxy, to create me, and yet by creating me, you ensured your continued existence.  
  
I'm born to make sure that you would never be forgotten, that your power will continue to reign through me and flourish wherever I go, and wherever I take you to.  
  
In other words, you're indirectly my Pops by surrogate, kinda.  
  
I remember now…  
  
I remember things I shouldn't, _wouldn't want to_ , remember…  
  
I remember seeing you peeking through the windows with that slight tilt of your head.  
  
I remember seeing you watching me from afar, from beyond the trees.  
  
I remember you coming to me, going down on bended knee to pat me in the head before disappearing right before me in the blink of an eye.  
  
I remember…I remember that incident where Jan didn't accompany me to school for the first time and that fight I had…  
  
Oh god, why are you making me remember it…?  
  
I don't even want to talk about it, let alone think about it!  
  
So much anger, so much fury, so much darkness inside me…  
  
I remember…  
  
That guy I beat up…  
  
He said something about Pops.  
  
He said I was a bastard child and Momma was a whore or something.  
  
He said I may not even be Pops' real kid and that's why he left Momma.  
  
And I just snapped.  
  
Jan wasn't there, and there was no one to hold me back when I snapped.  
  
So much rage…  
  
So much blood…  
  
Last thing I remember was everyone looking at me in horror.  
  
They were looking at my face, and I turned to the reflective surface of the locker to see…  
  
Nothing…  
  
No face…  
  
I couldn't remember seeing my face…  
  
I saw blood splatters and blotches all over my cheeks…  
  
But I didn't have a face…!  
  
No…No…NO!!  
  
No, stop!! Don't make me remember this!!  
  
I don't want to remember this!! No one was supposed to know! I don't want my readers to know! I told them they're better off not knowing about the incident! Why are you making me remember this?! Why are you even making me _write_ this?!  
  
NO!! STOP!!  
  
……  
  
……  
  
……  
  
Momma was right.  
  
She was right all along.  
  
I shouldn't even exist. I'm an abomination that shouldn't even be on this earth. I shouldn't.  
  
She was right, I _am_ a monster.  
  
 _Your_ monster.


	41. Chapter 41

**DEAR SLENDY**

  
You're talking to me…  
  
You're finally talking to me…  
  
I can see you smile at me…  
  
So scary…  
  
So menacing…  
  
Yet…so inviting…  
  
What's that, you say…?  
  
You want me to come with you?  
  
Why should I? Why should I believe you?  
  
Why should I follow you…after all you've done to me?  
  
You've taken my Pops away.  
  
You've taken my Momma away.  
  
You've taken my Jan away.  
  
You've taken everything and everyone that meant something to me, so why should I…  
  
……  
  
Yes…I want answers…  
  
Yes…I want to know…  
  
Why me?  
  
Who am I?  
  
 _What_ am I?  
  
……  
  
OK…  
  
I'll go…  
  
For the sake of the truth…  
  
I'll go…  
  
Show me what you got.


	42. Epilogue

**THE BUGLE BLOG: ENTRY XX**

  
Ted here with a new entry for The Bugle Blog.  
  
Things been a bit slow for me since they've kept me out of the loop and in the dark about the progress of the case of Bloody Wisteria, the creepy apartment I'm living in that has become the source of sensation on Bartholomew Riggs a.k.a. Bart and his nightwatch team's bizarre death, as well as the mysterious disappearance deaths of many a young child here.  
  
Since they found evidence to suggest that it was Detective Mason Harrigon who had slayed and committed all these crimes, they decided to throw the book on him almost immediately and wrote it off as case closed, barring any more further investigations that might tarnish one of their own.  
  
I, for one, am not convinced.  
  
Things couldn't have been that simple.  
  
I'll admit that Detective Harrigon was very into this case and put most of his own man power and hours into it to almost the point of obsession, but it seems to me that he was doing this to catch the bad guy, not _being_ the bad guy.  
  
I have a feeling he was being framed, and was murdered for it to cover their tracks.  
  
But by whom? Who could be sinister enough to do such a thing?  
  
Come to think of it, the only other person more or less in speaking terms with Detective Harrigon was our fix-it guy George.  
  
Maybe that kid might know something we don't.  
  
I suppose I could drop by that kid's place for a while and find out some clues. Maybe even provide me with some new material for the case I'm writing on. I heard George wasn't much of a people person and kept to himself (or herself, can't really tell, actually), but a journalist's gotta do what a journalist's gotta do.  
  
Ted, signing off.


End file.
